A Pirate's life for me
by Mizu-Tenshi
Summary: For the kink meme. While helping France clean out his closet, America finds and decides to keep England's old pirate hat. But America finds that he's gotten more than he bargained for when the real thing turns up looking for his hat. England/America.


This was written a very, _very_ long time ago but I've been slowly moving fics from my lj over to here. So without further ado...enjoy!

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**A pirate's life for me**

XX

Alfred was in the middle of helping Francis and Antonio clear out the mountains of things in Francis' storage – he had more stuff than Alfred thought possible, including some very rusty but very cool looking suits of armour – when he stumbled upon_ it_.

_It_ happened to be a large three-point pirate hat. The red velvet had faded but was still lush to the touch, rimmed with bridled gold and backed with black silk, which had torn a little, inside the hat. Long plumes of white ostrich feathers spouted out from the top, and at the front there was a black skull and cross sewn onto the velvet.

"Hey Francis, what's up with this?" Alfred picked up the hat.

"Hmm? Oh just an old pirate hat," Francis replied without more than a single glance at the old hat.

"You used to wear this musty old thing?" Alfred almost laughed at the image of Francis walking around in such an ostentatious hat. It would certainly suit him.

"Do I look like the kind of man who favours ostrich feathers?" Francis looked absolutely scandalised. "_This_ is mine," he picked up a similar tri-corner hat, though navy blue and rimmed with silver. "_That _is England's," he waved a hand at the thing Alfred was holding with a look of distaste.

"Arthur used to wear this?" Alfred glanced at the hat, seeing it in a different light.

He tried to imagine what it looked like before the gold had faded, when the red velvet still blazed and the white feathers had been plump and full. He tried to imagine what Arthur would look like wearing it in full pirate regalia, standing proudly at the front of a ship with cannons thundering and waves crashing around him.

"It was back in the old pirate days, mon ami," Francis began digging out crates of wine dating back to the French revolution, "when he was more wild and uncontrollable than he is now. Thank God those days were numbered."

"Oh yeah, I heard Arthur used to be a delinquent," Alfred chuckled, spinning the hat around on his hand. Those stories always made Arthur blush. "It's hard to imagine stuffy old Arthur was like that! So was he, like, really cool back then?"

"He was a madman!" Antonio's traumatised cry made them both jump. An old suit of medieval armour clattered to the floor. "M – My armada! My beautiful armada!"

"Let me guess, he sunk your battleship?"

Antonio shuddered at the thought. "It was bad enough when he went around plundering from my colonies and stealing my treasure! He buried it all in Singapore, I know it! Maybe I should pay Singapore a visit...yes, Singapore..." he began making his slow, unsteady way to Francis's door.

"Francis, Antonio's having an inner mind trauma again!" Alfred called, only to be promptly ignored by Francis.

"Mon Dieu, if you ask me someone who cannot protect his own booty deserves to have it stolen," he snorted.

Antonio's hand, halfway to reaching the door handle, froze. In an instant he was back by Francis's side, grabbing the man's collar as he pulled him forward to yell in his face; "Remember Trafalgar!"

"Th – That was your fault too! As if you could do anything either!" Francis spluttered, wrenching himself from Antonio's grasp.

"My armada...my lovely armada..." Antonio found a nice, comfortable little corner to rock back and forth in.

"Uh...so Francis, can I keep this?" Alfred asked, doffing the old hat on his head. It was much lighter than he expected such a large hat to be.

"Why would you want a mouldy old thing like that?" Francis wrinkled his nose at it.

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know. Now that I look at it, it's kinda cool. Might need a wash and a bit of patching up but I could hang it up somewhere." This was of course a lie. What would Arthur say if he found his hat hanging up in Alfred's house? He could just imagine the embarrassment.

"That vulgar idiot left it here so I'm assuming he doesn't want it," Francis grumbled, proceeding to mutter about stupid Arthur, and leaving things at his house when the Norman Conquest had been over a millennia ago.

"Thanks Francis!" Alfred beamed.

XX

Alfred realised by the time that he got back to his house that he had absolutely no idea what to do with the hat. There was no way he could put it on display where Arthur could see it at any time and when would he ever get the chance to wear it? In other words, he had yet again picked up another completely useless item.

Well, that was not important, was it? Its absolute worthlessness was disregarded for the fact that it really was an awesome hat. Probably as awesome as Prussia. Anyway, pirates were cool, weren't they? Pirates were sexy.

"Imagining that old-fashioned guy as a pirate is..." Alfred laughed at himself, putting the hat carefully on his bed. There was no way he could seriously imagine the Arthur he knew as a pirate, roaming the seven seas in search of adventure and treasure.

No, there was no way Alfred could imagine Arthur holding fierce battles on the deck, or running through the streets at midnight with stolen gold, laughing unashamedly, green eyes full of delight, breathless and alive. He could not imagine the drunken brawls, the heedless, hedonistic sex with men and women alike, golden revelry and mountains of riches plundered one night and squandered on booze and food the next. He certainly could not imagine Arthur at the helm, sunlight shining, the wind through his hair, defiant and cocky and – oh fuck.

Alfred looked at the hard bulge in his pants then at the hat sitting on the bed besides him. "A – Arthur!" he gasped, hands fumbling to unzip his pants and free his painful erection.

"So ye be here."

Alfred froze for a good ten seconds.

"A – Arthur!" he jumped, scrambling for the covers, for anything that would cover his very obvious erection. Throwing a pillow over his lap, he tried to smile casually. "W – what's up?" Damn his voice for shaking!

Arthur eyed the pillow a little too long for comfort. Alfred gulped.

The guilty hat had fallen from the bed in his haste to grab a pillow. It rolled along the floor towards Arthur's foot as if it had a mind of its own and was returning to its master. That was a damn creepy thought, Alfred realised.

Stooping down, Arthur picked up the hat and put it on. Even in a sweater-vest, the hat suited him and Alfred had to suppress the pleasant trill that ran up his spine as the Arthur in his imagination was slowly being realised right in front of his eyes.

"I thought I might have left all my old pirate stuff with Francis but when I went to collect it my hat was missing. Looks like it's been with you all along," Arthur stared at him blankly.

Only then did Alfred realise that under his arm hung a pirate coat of similar colour; deep red and trimmed with gold hems and golden buttons, a leather belt and cutlass, boots, gloves, and a kerchief still as white as if it were newly bought.

"Uh..." Alfred struggled for words. "I did ask for Francis' permission."

"Since when does that frog have say over my stuff?" Arthur snorted, making his way further into the room.

Much to Alfred's mortification, he stopped right in front of him and snatched the pillow away. Alfred yelped in protest but Arthur grinned and eyes the large bulge

"Now is that a bellayin' pin in yer britches or are ye just happy t' see me?"

Alfred tried to speak but only succeeded in gaping. That self-confident smirk, that accent; despite the hotness in his cheeks he could not deny that he was hoping a little ravishment came with the package.

He watched transfixed as Arthur threw off the sweater vest, loosening the top three buttons of his shirt. He put the hat on again, slightly askance, and threw on the long coat, wrapping the belt around in such a sloppy manner that it only just hung around his hips before finally pulling on the gloves with his teeth. The boots and the kerchief went the way of the sweater vest.

"What's the matter lad, cat got ye tongue? Or maybe you need a bit a blowin' down." Arthur grinned and Alfred believed that it was the most feral grin he had ever seen.

Arthur roughly pushed Alfred onto his back and straddled him, pinning Alfred's wrists above his head. He flung off one glove and traced Alfred's jaw line with the naked hand, running his finger teasingly down his neck to the collar bone.

Alfred tested Arthur's hold to find that one hand was perfectly capable of keeping his wrists down. Where had the normally uptight, conservative Arthur gone? Was this Arthur, who was licking his lips in the most seductive manner, the same person who got cold turkey after a day without tea and liked to practice embroidery on sunny weekends?

The sides of Arthur's coat fell around them like wings, trapping him on both sides. Arthur leaned forward, knowing full well that when he did so his knee pressed against Alfred with that slight, delightful pressure that made him struggle for more than just teasing.

"A – Arthur?" Alfred panted, He was not sure how to react, but it mattered little when his body was aching with need and he – goddamn, he wanted pictures of Arthur like this.

"I hope ye know how to parley," Arthur whispered, lips pressed to his lobe. "Cos yer about to be boarded."


End file.
